Cold Wind, Warm Bodies
by hufflepuff-ish
Summary: She could feel the warmth of his body and his eyes on her. It wasn't a surprise that he was lying next to her; Blaise had always been confident. She closed her eyes because she knew that once her gaze will meet his, she will be doomed. She thought it would be easier this way, without looking at him, but in reality, it didn't matter. One-Shot, T rated, but might change.


**A/N: It's been SO long since the last time I posted something. For now, this is a one shot, though I might add one or two chapters, but that's the maximum for this fic.**

 **I have a few more one shots I have started writing a while ago, hopefully one of them (a Draco/Astoria) will be uploaded this week. I am also planning a long Draco/Astoria fic, but I have no idea when it will be published, because I didn't even finish writing the 1st chapter.**

 **I do not own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.**

 **I do own the picture that I used for this fic, so please don't use it.**

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For a minute she thought she was going to freeze to death. It wasn't that bad or painful; she had been through bad and painful by then. A bit of cold air could never be compared to the Crucio curse that was used on her more than once when she was seventeen. Her shirt, nothing more than a light piece of fabric, clung tightly to her body, showing the pattern of lace on her bra. She knew it was cold, she wasn't stupid, yet she didn't want to drag a heavy cloak with her and, either way, it's only a short walk through the street until you get to the club.

When Pansy first presented her the idea, she didn't like it. The idea of a nightclub, especially owning one, felt utterly muggle-ish, but her best friend insisted it would be successful and she was right. It didn't really matter to Daphne, she was never a good business woman, that's why she was working at a newspaper and Pansy was the one in charge of the investment. _That night_ , she didn't care if it was muggle-ish, or stupid or a bad investment. She only cared about the fact that she had somewhere to go and distract herself.

She spent hours in the club. It began with her drinking five drinks of whatever alcoholic drinks were served and hanging out with Pansy. They talked, sang, flirted with every good looking guy they came across and drank some more, because in times like these, she needed to drink _a lot_ for her to drink _enough_. Enough to let it go, enough not to think about it, enough for Pansy not to ask. She was quite responsible, more than her best friend, however, for a few nights in the past two months, they switched places; Pansy was responsible, to a certain level, while Daphne was carefree. So carefree that she couldn't get herself back home without help.

Time kept going and she knew she needed to keep herself distracted, because she still had time. She didn't remember if she had hours, days or weeks, but she told herself to keep going. She danced for hours, barely feeling tired as she swayed her hips and threw her head from one side to the other. She was smiling, because she felt nothing but the music and the pounding of her heart. She didn't care about the men around her, they came and left like that cold wind from earlier, yet she made sure that they kept their hands in the right places on her body and their lips away from hers. And she kept drinking, because the effect of the alcohol vanishes too quickly for her and she needed to keep herself blurry.

Hours later, the club was almost empty, too soon in her drunken opinion. However, the tiredness came rushing in, hitting her and making her wish for a bed under her hurting back and legs. She didn't need Pansy's advice nor assistance to know that it was time for her to go home, even if _home_ felt like nothing more than a bunch of rooms and walls that were filled with nothing but silence. She got out the club to apparate herself, but stopped when she saw the night sky was beginning to turn lighter again. She guessed it was 4 AM in another day for her and felt sort of happy that another day was behind her, yet bitter that she needed to count the days _since_ and the time _until_ , pay so much attention to _numbers_.

By the time she was back at her apartment, only seconds later, she had tears in her eyes. She took off her shoes in the living room and walked towards the bedroom, wanting to escape reality into the world of dreams as soon as possible. In the entrance to the bedroom, she took off her shirt and bra. Again, it was too tight; not only the fabrics, but the entire _world_. The air didn't feel like enough in her lungs and airways, even though wind was coming in through the windows in the living room. As she stood there, half naked, she felt only slightly better, the feeling of chocking lingering in her body, pressing on her throat.

Her body hit the bed and she lay there, her bare back exposed to the warmth of the apartment after casting a quick warming charm. She didn't bother to cover herself with the blanket. Every inch of her was aching, not just physically, and she thought she should make herself a potion for the hangover. She didn't actually do it, a decision she knew she would regret hours later. All she wanted to do was sleep, regardless of the tears in her eyes. And five minutes later she did fall asleep, her chest rising and falling as she entered a world where she only thought she could escape and be free.

Her eyes opened when the bed shifted underneath her. She felt better, yet not entirely and she knew she didn't sleep for long. The sky outside was a beautiful shade of blue and she guessed somewhere outside the sun was shinning. She knew that she could die right there, because she didn't remember where her wand was, but she also knew she had no reason to worry, because the smell of coffee and cologne wasn't only lingering on the pillow next to her. She closed her eyes again, too tired and afraid to keep them open, to see that what she suspected was true.

''You're back," she noted, her voice only a whisper.

She could feel the warmth of his body and his eyes on her. It wasn't a surprise that he was lying next to her; Blaise had always been confident. She closed her eyes because she knew that once her gaze will meet his, she will be doomed. She thought it would be easier this way, without looking at him, but in reality, it didn't matter, because she could feel his presence beside her and it made her heart beat faster.

''I got back earlier. For you," Blaise explained gently, knowing that the lack of eye contact between them was a bad sign. However, he took the opportunity to let his eyes admire her dirty blonde, wavy hair, which was lying on her back and shoulders, to follow the curve of her back all the way to where her pants began, sitting perfectly on her hips.

''Was France boring?" she asked, not bothering to be nice. They both knew it wasn't only about France; it was about the last nine months. She usually tried to hold herself back, but she was done and he knew it before she even spoke.

He turned to lie on his stomach and leaned up on his elbows, his eyes never leaving the small part of her face that he could see with her head still turned away from him. It could have been the last straw, he knew it and it filled him with bitterness. He wasn't surprised to see her like this, it made his heart ache, and it wasn't the first time they were in this position. "I am not leaving again," he said as he pushed a string of hair behind her ear, slightly afraid to touch her because she was still angry and hurt, yet he decided it was a good way to try and soften her.

His touch was warm and soft. She held herself back from giving into it, knowing she needs to prove her strength, to show her feelings, show that the imaginary dance they have been doing these past nine months, separating and getting back together had to stop. She did, however, allow herself to open her eyes and turn a bit to look at him. His gaze was soft and he looked tired, lying there and looking down at her. "Aren't you?" she asked, maintaining a cold facade.

She sounded bitter, and her gaze was fierce. He missed her eyes, the line of her jaw, the curve of her lips. It was already difficult, sitting on the bed with his shoes still on in case she will ask him to leave, while she lay there, purely perfect in front of him and her smell, vanilla, filling the air. "No, I sold the implants to one of my relatives. I have no more reasons to leave," he explained, waiting to get any sort of reaction from her. Then, he recognized the doubt in her eyes. "I _promise_ ,'' he added without any hesitation.

She stared into his eyes for another moment. When the moment ended, she turned her head away from him again and buried her face in her pillow. She believed him and she wanted him, but she felt like she needed a day or two to heal, which also meant a day or two for him to swim in a pool of guilt. A part of her still felt like crying and screaming, however, it almost vanished as he covered the lower half of her body with a blanket. He always knew how to make her feel better and she always thought it was a new kind of magical power.

He moved closer to her and put his hand in the middle of her bare and still exposed back. She didn't protest and he took it as a sign to continue. Slowly and carefully, he placed his head on a pillow next to her and started drawing imaginary lines on her back. Her breathing became slower and she was holding back a moan. He minimized the distance between them and buries his nose in her hair. ''I love you,'' he whispered.

After he kissed her head, she turned her head towards him again. She opened her eyes and he was relieved to see that she looked calm again; no anger or hurt in her eyes. She really wasn't angry, because what happened wasn't his fault, it was life, things that needed to be done and she hoped it would make them stronger instead of the opposite. ''I love you too,'' she replied.

A smile spread across his face. He held her waist and pulls her closer so her back is pressed into his chest. He moved his hand to lay on her stomach and rubbed her skin with his thumb. A few moments later, she laced their finger together and sighed. He moved her hair away from her shoulder and spread kisses across her bare skin, causing her to close her eyes and inhale slowly. Then, he landed a soft kiss on her neck and she exhaled a shaky breath. Though he could, he didn't continue. They were both tired and since he wasn't going anywhere, he knew there would be time in the morning. And in the afternoon. And in the evening. She tightened her grip on his hand, afraid, only for a split second, that he would disappear again.

The last thing she felt before falling back asleep was his breath on her neck. He buried his nose in her hair again and took his shoes off his feet, not bothering to get rid of his pants and buttoned shirt. He fall asleep a few minutes after her, making sure to keep a tight grip on her.


End file.
